Tales Of Home
by Rove-29
Summary: One-shots of various different characters from 'Lord of the rings'. The nine walkers before they became the fellowship of the ring.
1. The Perfect Gift

**This is the first of a series of one-shots. It follows a young Gimli on his mother's birthday. Gimli being one of my favourite characters was, for me, an obvious choice to start with.**

**The rest will be looking at as many of the other characters as possible. I will be putting them in a range of funny, sad, possibly slightly cheesy and maybe even scary situations.**

**But without further ado...**

* * *

"If you just hold that there… No. Left a little. You don't want to catch you're fingers…"

Gimli was working with his father in the workshop nearby the Blue Mountain's newest chamber. He was working on a piece of stone work.

But this wasn't any old stone work, oh no. This was the first piece he had ever done!

For years he had begged Glóin to let him start the craft dwarves were so well known for, and finally, he gave in.

But even for his first time it would be no ordinary life of art. It was a birthday gift for his mother, and that ment it would be perfect.

Owing to the fact that this was an entirely new experience, Gimli wasn't surprised when his father told him that they, sorry, he would be making a simple engraving in a stone tablet. It was square, approximately 10 cm in length, and thus far had his mother's initial in the centre and the starts of an easy to do design around the edges.

His father had helped him through most of it and was currently teaching him how to finish the edges off smoothly.

"There, now if you keep going like that… Perfect!"

They had been working all day and Glóin was very proud of how his son was doing.

Feeling certain that he was doing well, he just about felt confident enough to leave Gimli on his own whilst he was called out to help with the new cavern.

Pleased that he was trusted enough to work without supervision, Gimli worked on.

Working hard through the remainders of the day, it got late before he was called back home.

Gimli, being nearly finished and determined to complete the tablet before the rising of the new day, and his mother's birthday, he had to be practically dragged away. Before leaving though, he managed to extract the promise from his father that allowed him to return after they had eaten.

All throughout the meal Gimli was occupied: for the edges he would use the method Glóin taught him to make the edges curved and rounded, after that all he would have to do was make the stone smooth and wrap it up for the morning.

It would be perfect.

After being excused from the table he rushed back to his masterpiece.

Upon seeing it he dropped to his knees, nearly breaking down and weeping.

Marring the surface of the tablet was a deep crack. It was strewn on the floor and someone had evidently thrown their tools down carelessly, causing the laceration.

After watching the young dwarf for a while Hirén, the owner of the workshop and longtime friend to Glóin's family, walked over to him.

"What's wrong. Why are you here so late."

Without making a sound he picked up the tablet to show Hirén.

The pain he felt was reflected in the elder dwarf's eyes as understanding dawned on him.

"It's for your O'mid isn't it." (Mother)

Gimli nodded numbly in response, feeling a single tear run down his cheek.

Feeling an arm guiding him to his feet he looked up.

"Well in that case we must fix it hadn't we."

Eyes wide in surprise, he allowed himself to be pulled over to the worktop.

There he watched in amazement as the other dwarf assembled various items from around the room. Once that was done Hirén turned to him.

"I'm going to need your help."

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Over the next few hours Gimli helped with melting iron, casting it, setting it, making sure it did what was desired.

Water steamed, fire spluttered and Gimli was hot and exhausted.

By the time he got back home, parcel under his arm, Glóin was sitting on a chair waiting, long after his wife had went to bed.

Upon seeing the expression on his son's face he ushered him straight to bed.

Before leaving the room, Glóin went to remove the package. But it didn't take long for him to realise that it wouldn't be happening.

Gimli was not letting it out of his sight. He wouldn't allow it to go any further then beside his bed where he could make sure it remained safe.

As the sun rose so did Gimli. The smells of breakfast were already drifting from the kitchen. Sitting on his bed he weighed the parcel in one hand before switching to the other.

What if she didn't like it?

Did he really think that their patch up job would reduce the damage?

Even then did his work really merit the worth of a gift?

Overcome with nerves he stepped out and into the kitchen.

Both mother and father there waiting for him.

Going over to the latter he produced the package.

"Happy birthday O'mid." (Mother)

"Âkminrûk zu!" (Thank you)

As he handed it over and she unwrapped it Gimli's eyes never moved from their fixed position.

Upon opening his mother was silent.

"Sorry O'mid, it broke. I did what I could but-"

His words were cut off as she flight her arms around him.

The tablet, where before had the scar running through it, now had an iron river running through it, small streams then meant it had run into his previous engravings, making the patterns and the initial stand out in a cool silver.

Gimli was surprised to find tears falling down her face.

"I love it. It's the perfect gift."

Their embrace lasted several more minutes.

Even when their family relocated to the Lonely Mountains many years later it still remained it a location where everyone could see it. A position of pride and joy.

* * *

**I hope that was satisfactory! Though admittedly, it was a bit shorter then I would've liked.**

**I hope the dwarvish was accurate as in all honesty I have no idea. I just searched various sites tilling found something suitable.**

**I hope this will be the first of many but there won't be a regular posting schedule. I will be posting whenever I have time or an idea. You could help with this by asking for things you may want to see. If could be anything from elves to the shire! **

**Don't be afraid to review and maybe give my story 'A Warm Welcome' a try.**

**Sorry this was so long and thank you for reading!**


	2. Hunts And Pies

**No excuses. Just a blocked mind. I know I promised it almost two weeks ago. Exams didn't help. Nearly done though!**

* * *

The garden of Bag End, whilst always colourful, was now expelling streams of different coloured items. Tons of decorations were up and the garden was in full bloom. Sam knelt down by the flower beds for a last minute tidy up before the guests arrived. He had been busy all morning and the garden looked better than it had in years. Of course, this wasn't putting down any of his or his father's earlier work, but there was something about the place that radiated something quite difficult to name in common language.

For the third time that morning, Sam had to redirect the youngest Took to stop him from trampling the flowers. It happened every time Merry took his eyes off the young hobbit. They seemed to have adopted each other over the years and delighted in causing trouble. Obviously, Pippin was the only one who ended up getting caught as Merry was long gone by then. Not that anyone would be angry at him for long. It was just impossible to remain upset or disappointed with Pippin.

After he had disappeared inside, Sam checked once more for anything out of place and turned to find Bilbo.

He wasn't anywhere in Bag End so Sam set out in search.

It was a very warm and sunny day and most of the Shire was outside. After asking a few who said they had seen him, he set off in the vague direction of The Barrow-Downs. It wasn't too long before he found him resting by a tree looking out to the road. His pipe was smoking and it looked like he had been there for some time. Sam was just hesitating whether or not he should approach when Bilbo spotted him.

"Sam! Are you alright?"

Closing the distance between them, he responded.

"Yes sir. The gardens are all sorted."

"Splendid! Is there anything you need?"

"No. But Frodo did ask me where you were when I was looking for you."

"Ah…"

Bilbo absentmindedly gazed into the distance, hand slipping into his pocket before hastily removing it again. After a few seconds, Sam asked the question that had been tugging on him.

"Who are you waiting for?"

It seemed to Sam that this was the only thing he could be doing. After all, he was certainly waiting for something and the chances were it would be a person. Of course, it could've been something else but it just didn't seem likely.

Bilbo didn't appear surprised by the question. Instead he just sighed and looked to the road.

"Gandalf. And he's late. Not for the first time."

Sam felt slightly awkward from hearing this. He had never yet met the wizard when he had previously visited but had heard stories and it didn't seem right to speak of a powerful wizard that way. To anyone else there would probably be no need to feel uncomfortable but Sam didn't often speak to Bilbo, it was usually his Gaffer, and he was known to be unusual but well known amongst hobbits.

"A-ha! There he is!"

Sam's eyes jumped to the cart riding up the road. He made no move to walk away and the cart pulled up quickly, so before he knew it, Sam was looking up to a grey robed wizard.

"You're late!"

Gandalf just smiled fondly at the old hobbit.

"Now dear Bilbo, you should know this by now. A wizard is never late or early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

Sam watched as the two then proceeded to greet each other warmly with slight amusement. Bilbo climbed onto the cart and turned to Sam.

"Want a lift back?"

"Oh. No. I'm good thank you."

"Come on!"

"Really, I'm fine!"

The next thing he knew, he was in the back of the cart confounded.

Frodo was waiting for them when they got back. Throughout the journey Bilbo and Gandalf exchanged friendly words and reminiscing, leaving Sam sitting quietly at the back. He was glad to leave the cart. Not that he minded being there. He just felt out of place in the conversation with a wizard he had only heard about in tales.

Frodo was standing outside of Bag End, arms crossed. His foot was tapping on the floor and he had an expression of mild annoyance.

"Where have you been?"

Not deterred in the slightest, Bilbo responded innocently.

"Whatever do you mean? I just went to keep an eye out for Gandalf here."

"Lobelia."

Bilbo's face froze all except a slight twitch in his lips.

"I'm sorry?"

"Apparently you were to give her something but weren't here. I had to do it instead and she wouldn't shut up about it. Next time, if you say something, do it instead of making someone else solve it."

Shrugging, Bilbo gestured with his hand.

"It's my birthday. I should get a break at least one day a year."

"It's my birthday too! And neither of us are going to avoid her. She invited herself to the party to make up for your negligence."

At the pouty expression on Bilbo's face, Gandalf laughed.

"Honestly Bilbo, you should know better by now. One would think that the little journey you had would have prepared you for things like this."

Waving his hand in dismissal, Bilbo spoke in a very offhand voice.

"Oh no. That was completely different."

Whilst this happened, Sam tried to edge away from the gathering. He had nearly succeed when Frodo slid over to him.

"Sam. Can you help me find Merry and Pippin? Bilbo's organised a treasure hunt. You're joining in as well of course."

Sam considered refusing. He did want to go, he really did. But he didn't know if it was right to do so. One look into Frodo's excited face banished all of his doubts though. He looked just like an excitable puppy. Sam smiled and lead Frodo into the house where he had last seen Merry and Pippin.

Fifteen minutes later, after all sitting together around a map drawn out by Bilbo, Sam was wandering around Bilbo's study. There were four different objects to collect and they had each split up to find them. Merry and Pippin had taken the easiest two, Pippin being the youngest, and Sam had taken the next one along leaving Frodo with the most difficult one. After looking under a stack of papers that looked like some sort of manuscript he found a dragon shaped metal token which was one of the items needed.

He walked back to the gardens where they were meeting up when he heard noises from the kitchen. Going to investigate the 'should be empty' house, Sam rounded the corner to see two hobbits stealing pies Bilbo had made for the birthday party.

Merry and Pippin each had a pie in hand and Merry was half out of the door. He was gone within seconds, two copper tokens sticking out of his pocket. Pippin however, was a lot less graceful. Somehow the pie survived, but he went flying over the floor after tripping over something Sam couldn't see on the floor. He bumped his jaw very hard and burst into tears. Merry burst back through the doorway and rushed to Pippin's side. Upon seeing Sam standing nearby he sent him to find someone without showing a single hint of remorse for what he knew Sam had witnessed.

Gandalf, Bilbo and Frodo came rushing after Sam into the kitchen. Both pies had been replaced on the table removing the evidence of their wrongdoings and Pippin's wails had been reduced to snuffles. There was a nasty gash on his jaw but thankfully it was easily remedied. As all of the tokens had been found, they received a reward that greatly cheered up the young hobbit.

They were eating pies as Gandalf's fireworks by the large tree that would, in three years, be known as the party tree. Manny hobbits were gathered and enjoying the food and entertainment being provided. It wasn't a big party but nearly everyone seemed to be there. Merry hadn't left Pippin's side all day even though he was perfectly happy and stuffing his face.

After a while, Sam left for a little walk. The ash and smoke from the fireworks made ashen patterns in the sky. Gandalf was a very unusual person. When tending Pippin he emitted a mix of kind words and scathing comments. There was something about it that seemed powerful, but spending his time making entertainment for bored hobbits didn't seem like a likely past time for an all powerful wizard. Despite the scare he had enjoyed himself. Collecting the tokens was fun. Especially as they were symbols taken from Bilbo's adventure. The dragon, the key, the sword and the oak tree. They were made for Bilbo by some of the dwarves he befriended on the journey and they almost seemed to pain him with the bad memories that didn't quite ruin some of the happiest days of his life.

Trekking back to the party he was greeted by Frodo. They stood in silence for a while before being roused by a cry and running hobbits.

They were sprinting full speed, pies in hand. Sam and Frodo burst into laughter.

"Merry! Pippin! Get back here!"

* * *

**Still struggling on length. I tried to include the requests given so far but any more would be appreciated. I have an idea for the next one back with Gimli. I will try to make it within two weeks but there's no guarantee. I'm thinking about more ideas for a new story but it will be quite slow going.**

**This is set three years before the book so includes the seventeen year gap after their birthday leaving Frodo at 30, Sam at 18, Merry 16, Pippin 8 and Bilbo 108 ( if I've got the maths right). Anyone who hasn't read the books, it still works exactly the same.**

**Sorry if it was lacking a bit. Like I said, the ideas wouldn't come.**


	3. Axe, Sword, Bow

Kili couldn't find Gimli.

Or Fili.

He had only left them for a minute but he had already lost his charge and other overwatch. All he had done was speak to Balin for a moment, the next thine knew; he had lost two dwarves.

The only good thing was that they should be together. That meant it shouldn't be too hard to find them. Whenever they got together they seemed to argue. Only friendly ones, but they could get so intense that they would be mentioned for days after the original topic was long forgotten.

In fact, it was just as he entered the underground courtyard when he heard what he could only assume was another argument. This one however, he noted as he neared the pair, seemed to lack the amount of words they usually did. At least the variety anyway.

"Axe!"

"Sword!"

"Axe!"

"Sword!"

"Axe!"

"Swo-"

"What is this?"

Kili had dived into the deep end of their fight and they both turned to him. The answer to his question came indirectly and was delivered by Gimli.

"Tell Fili that an axe is the best weapon."

Before Kili could even think about forming a response his brother broke in.

"That's nonsense. Besides, he uses a sword as well, proving they are the best."

"Yes, but I prefer the bow. Does that come in anywhere here?"

Both ignoring his statement, or question if you prefer, after giving a sharp glare they found new evidence to support their claims, leaving Kili to just stand there watching.

"My O'did uses an axe! He's a great fighter and he only uses the best weapons." (Father)

A split second later, Fili retaliated triumphantly.

"Yes, but Uncle Thorin uses a sword and he's the best fighter!"

"You can't know that!"

"What? That he uses a sword? Of course I can!"

"No! That he's the best fighter!"

Pausing to consider the point Fili thought, an expression of mild annoyance on his face. Brushing it aside he decided there was only one thing to do.

"There's only way to settle this. To the training halls!"

Without a moment's hesitation Gimli followed the already retreating dwarf. With a bit more hesitation, Kili also followed. There was no way he was letting them out of his sight. Who knew what they would get up to.

**TALES OF HOME**

Fili stood directly opposite Gimli. They both had their weapons out, ready to start their competition. The first test would be that of mobility. One he was fairly certain he would win. The first part would be moving it about in their hands as fast and smoothly as possible. Then they would have to go across a course recently built for training purposes whilst using their chosen weapons as effectively as possible. There would be no need for a judge. Fili was certain that sooner or later Gimli would admit he was right. Kili was hovering in the doorway but Fili chose to ignore him again. All he was doing was watching over Gimli, and it wasn't like he didn't have things sorted himself.

Slowly at first, Fili started spinning them. The turns gradually became faster and more elaborate. In comparison, Gimli could only really spin it around in his hand where the hilt met the head. The next round was also over very quickly. Fili finished the course a fraction of a second quicker because of the more streamlined and light weapon.

The second test was to be strength. He had to admit that Gimli was more likely to win despite being younger, and because of the nature of the test. But refusing to include the challenge would be the same as admitting Gimli was correct. The goal was to split a piece of wood as much as possible. Fili managed a respectable inch considering a sword wasn't cut out for that job. Of course, the axe being the actual tool for the job, Gimli split the block nearly in two. Despite the marginal bragging from the younger dwarf, this was only the second round and Fili felt confident. He had put this round second so Gimli had a brief moment of victory before he was completely beaten. The next round was reach. Certain to win he announced the next test whilst cutting of some remark from Gimli.

After comparing the weapons, it was obvious, as it was before, that his sword was longer then the axe. Obviously, he knew that both could come in different lengths but for the purpose of this he wasn't going to mention it, to keep him in the lead. Fili was ready to move on when Gimli stopped him.

"You forgot something."

Then, without explanation, Gimli threw his axe into a target on the other side of the room, seemingly without much effort.

Fili felt himself deflate. Swords weren't meant for throwing. It would reach the target but the aim was tricky and would no doubt be a factor for winning. Practice was probably also an important thing to do well in this. A factor he didn't have much experience in. Lining up the blade, he pulled it back like a spear before launching it forwards. It did hit the target, it was also close to the centre. However, it wasn't the winning strike Gimli made, declaring him the victor of the third round.

Trying not to sound spiteful, Fili announced the next challenge, speed. When Gimli raised the question: "Isn't that just the first test again?" he shut it down impatiently.

"No. That was how well you can move. This is how quickly you can move whilst fighting. An important difference. Now, let's begin. If you don't partake, the victory is mine."

Gimli grumbled at this but readied his axe anyway. In the end it didn't make a difference though. Fili won with the quick strikes and turns of his sword.

Shortly after Fili declared victory they were stumped. Neither was willing to back down and their minds had come up blank whenever they tried to come up with new tests. I'm sure you could think of some other trials, and doubtlessly they also did. However, it's most likely only those that would aid the other so therefore chose to remain silent. In the end it was Gimli who came up with the last test.

"How about we leave the mountain and go to the nearby forest. We can test what they are like in the field by who hunts and kills the most creatures. Whoever wins this will win overall and will have to prepare the animals caught for dinner in the winners honour. Unless you're to scared that is."

The last comment was designed to be a barb, and it worked. Fili was already warming to the idea but the last comment made his mind up. He was competitive yes, but that came nowhere near close to his pride and honour.

"Not at all. Let's go. Oh, and Kili," he turned to his brother, "you don't have to come this time. We'll be fine."

With one last glance at Gimli, Fili lead the way out of the room towards the mountains exit.

**TALES OF HOME**

Gimli followed Fili into the forest feeling secretly pleased. Within the trees it would be harder to swing a sword. The same held true for his axe of course but, as the third trial proved, his axe was shorter. They reached a glade which would act as their home point. There would be a set time and then both of them would have to return to the home with what they had caught.

Fifteen minutes in Gimli was doing quite well. Dwarves are known to be far from the most silent of creatures which made getting close enough to things to hit harder than it may otherwise be for other species like elves or hobbits. Still, he had a squirrel and two rabbits. He had nearly scored a young fawn as well but it had been scared off by his footfalls before he could get close enough. He was aware that there were only ten minutes left of the challenge so was being as hasty as he could. Being late would discount a catch per minute and he wasn't willing to put the three he already had on the line for only a small chance that he would catch several more.

His lack of caution reached the eyes and ears of a some watching. The kind that you ideally wanted as far away from you as possible in all circumstances. Silently they gathered and followed him. This was unusual for them as they aren't known to be patient or intelligent yet this time they were. Silent as well or almost, not that Gimli was paying attention to his surroundings.

It was as he neared the clearing and Fili was nearby when they attacked.

It was orcs.

They rushed Gimli and he barely turned in time to sink his axe into the flesh of an attacking orc. There were at least ten others which would be hard for a group of four or five to manage, let alone one. Thankfully Fili noticed what was happening and joined him. Between them they took down three in a quick succession. After that that had cornered Gimli and had Fili pinned down.

Things were looking pretty grim when an arrow pierced the skull of the orc advancing on Gimli and the strength of it exited through the other side and nearly hit the orc next to him. Seconds after that arrow had flown another hit the orc next to the first victim that barely had time to register his comrades death. As three others fell Kili was seen moving quickly between the trees towards them from far away. It appeared he had never quite let them alone just to make sure they remained safe.

Before long the last orcs lay dead on the floor next to them and Kili had joined them in the clearing. The first thing they registered was the cheeky smile on his face. Both were majorly confused.

"Mobility, strength, range and speed."

Suddenly the other two dwarves looked very grumpy at Kili's gleeful expression.

"Bow wins!"

* * *

**I'm sorry. I know it's very late. You were probably wondering if I was even still alive! One thing came after another and while holidays are great they really don't leave much time for typing. Not that it would make much difference. I've had this idea for a while but when it came to it I just couldn't write it. But not that I'm making excuses.**

**I did enjoy this though. I do love Gimli. Again I'm unsure of the dwarvish. I'm upset that I couldn't find a word for uncle but you can't always get what you want.**

**Next time it will be with Legolas. I've also had this idea for a while. It's a popular theme but I do like my own version. It will be out within the week. It's already half written. I promise!**

**Please be patient with me. I'm awful with time.**


	4. Upon a hill

Across the blue lake where, justly named Lake town was placed, a small hill sat upon a hill. The name of that village had never been recorded and the elves had never heard of it, or had chosen to forget, its name. Now it is only remembered as the Ghost town after the massacre led by orcs in their advance on Greenwood the Great.

However, these events took place before that during a meeting of sorts. There were important trading routes and schemes with that town and Mirkwood and King Thranduil, with a few other elves, had come for talks. It was a delicate matter that several different towns were part of even excluding Mirkwood and the Ghost town. Talks like these could go on for days and had taken up the best part of one already.

They were no places for children. That was why the King's son and his mother were outside by a more wooded area enjoying the outdoors. Under most circumstances, an elf as young as Legolas, five or six in human years, wouldn't be there. However, thanks to his stubbornness and will not to be left behind, the young prince had been brought along much to the surprise of the town's folk, who had never seen an elf under one thousand years of age before.

Watching over him was his mother and the Queen. She had been nicknamed the Warrior Queen, or Maethorin in the elvish tongue, through her fierceness in battle. There was no one as skilled in either now or blade and she had even beaten King Thranduil in a fight. It was in fact how they had met, only he was a prince himself then. There weren't many who would willingly go up against her but that wasn't to say she was harsh. She was as kind and generous as she was fair. In her time she was considered one of the most beautiful elves that had ever lived. Even afterwards, she was put second only to Lúthien, Princess of Doriath, and eventually Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond. Picture the most beautiful woman you can and you still wouldn't quite be there. I wish I could tell you more of her but tales of Maethorin have become scarce and possibly far from the truth. Only the King truly remembers and they are memories he wishes to keep only to himself.

During that day of talks they were by the trees as I have said. They were reading a book, one of the Queen's favourites, at the base of a particularly large oak. Truth be told, Maethorin was doing most of the work. Legolas had proved resistant to all attempts of teaching him to read, but he still loved a story and would jump at the chance to hear one.

The wind was blowing East, away from the lake with a nice steady breeze.

How I wish it blew in the other direction. Then maybe they would've had a chance, but it was not to be. To top this, the wind was loud in the trees. Engrossed in the book as they were, they didn't hear the call of the trees or the sneaky footsteps of warning.

The elder elf heard the sound first. The sound of an arrow being released.

Being an elf and having superior reaction times, she shifted out of the way of a killing blow that stuck in her shoulder.

But this wasn't a kill mission.

It was only the wind that had strayed the arrow off of its course.

Within seconds, the poison came into effect and induced paralysis from the neck down. As the book fell out of her frozen hands the orcs breached the tree line. Quickly grasping the situation, she whispered down to her confused son.

"Legolas, run!"

It took a moment for the words to set in. Then panic was in his eyes as he looked from the orcs to the arrow in the Queen's shoulder. Without so much as a complaint, he was off.

Racing into the town, Legolas passed the few surprised faces he met and continued to the meeting place.

Legolas wasn't stupid. Even elves as young as he was were more mature than humans of the equivalent age and even they would have understood what was going on. He had never seen an orc before but he had heard lots of stories, most of them true events, so he knew what they were like.

And he was terrified.

Like both of his parents, he wasn't a coward. But you try to face a large group of creatures you've only heard of in stories with not one weapon to defend yourself with.

The blood didn't help either. Being from Mirkwood he knew of what could happen but he had been protected in the palace and seeing the Queen brought down so quickly was hard to see. Having always thought his mother would be able to protect him, he raced to the one other person he would always rely on.

By the time he reached the council, tears were in his eyes.

Bursting around the corner, Legolas startled the two men supervising the closed doors to the council. They were so surprised that they didn't make a move to stop him before the doors were already open.

He rushed in, stopping suddenly.

All of the faces around the table were staring at him.

This didn't stop him for long, the fear he felt propelled him forwards again towards the King.

Thranduil had stood up the second he saw the pure terror on his son's face. Stopping down to his height he was there when Legolas barreled into his arms.

There wasn't time for him to ask what had happened when Legolas spoke, words tumbling over each other.

"_I was with Nana… Orcs… They hit her… She told me to run…"_

He may have broken down into tears right then if Thranduil hadn't suddenly risen. He grabbed his sword from its position by the table, which was nearly always with him in these times of trouble, put Legolas down and headed for the door.

Now, Legolas had been taught to speak in the common tongue when in the company of other races but in his blind fear he had forgotten this.

Fortunately, the men in the room did understand the Sindarin for orc and mother so swiftly put two and two together. They were all heading for the exit, willing to help someone they were wishing to do business with.

Sprinting to the front, Legolas joined his father. Looking down at the elfling, he frowned.

"Legolas, you must stay here."

"No!"

The fear was still in his eyes but a firm determined look along shone there. Recognizing the look Thranduil sighed. He wouldn't give in and arguing would waste time.

"Fine, but stay by someone at all times and have this."

He held out a small blade that Legolas took eagerly. Then they rushed to the large oak.

Some orcs had now entered the town and were targeting the town's folk but they were made quick work of and the group soon moved on. They reached the tree fighting.

Now, it has to be said that, despite being paralyzed, Maethorin wasn't going down without a fight. She had found that her left arm still functioned partially and that alone was nearly enough to take down an orc. However, the orcs nearly had her detained and there was a barrier between her and the group.

The small fight almost seemed like a small battle.

Everyone took part with varying degrees of ability. The Queen didn't, or couldn't, do much, handicapped as she was. Legolas also did little to help, but that's to be expected of someone so young who hadn't had any training or seen any battle. He did do his best to stay by someone though, as he was told. Most of this was again through fear. Thranduil was making the most progress being the most practiced and motivated. He had left the others behind him and was nearly at his wife.

Then an orc spoke aloud.

"Stop or the elfling dies!"

Everyone stopped and sure enough, another orc had a blade to the struggling prince. He had been by the secretary of the ghost town who now lay dead nearby. There was a long gash on the orcs arm from Legolas' resistance but the weapon lay discarded on the grass. Legolas looked at his father desperately, tears once again pooling in his eyes.

"Now," the first orc spoke again. "You have a choice. Your Queen, or your child." He sneered and readied to fight. "And if you don't choose, we'll take them both."

Thranduil looked between the two hostages.

His wife was now fully subdued and Legolas couldn't fight such a big orc. He really did have to choose one. They would still have to fight to get to them and there weren't enough people to try both options at once.

Maethorin looked at him sternly.

"You better not even be thinking about it Thranduil!"

They locked eyes and it took great effort to tear them away again. He then motioned towards Legolas.

As one the orcs started moving again. About half rushed the ElvenKing and the other men from the towns. The other half started to retreat, the two elves in tow.

They were wild. I won't specify whether that was the orcs or not but the whole place was in chaos once more. I will tell you know that no one other then the secretary died in this battle. There were injuries. Some so severe that the recipient died within a week. Later on it would be noticed that the whole thing we designed to be much more than a simple attack. It was no orc's mind that came up with this. It was far too clever and struck too close to the heart of Mirkwood.

I'm glad to say they easily reached the young prince and he was physically unharmed. As soon as Legolas was in the King's arms and the orc dead, Thranduil flipped his sword in his hand and turned to his wife.

She was fading through the trees and could only catch her glance for a short while. Everything was silent. She never opened her mouth but Thranduil could hear her voice as clear as those white jems she wore so often.

"I love you both."

Then she disappeared through the trees.

Thranduil nearly went after her.

He wanted to and every part of his being screamed at him staying still for another second.

He didn't though.

Heading after them would be a suicide mission and leaving his young son and heir of Mirkwood on his own made his heart freeze cold.

Legolas snuffled in an attempt to stop crying. He was still clinging tightly to Thranduil's robes but desperately avoided looking at him.

The men, on the other hand, were staring at the elves, unsure of what to do or say. They stood motionless. No one said anything.

Thranduil started to feel his heart pull apart.

He should've brought more elves with him. The only guard that came with him was recovering from an injury si hadn't joined the meeting. Or the fight. He shouldn't have assumed three perfectly able warriors would be enough, would be a decent amount for the 'simple' job.

Legolas hiccoughed and looked to the tree he sat but not even twenty minutes ago.

"Ada?"

The little voice was barely audible. Thranduil looked down at him.

"Yes ion-nin?"

The bundle shifted slightly, eyes looking anywhere but at his father's face.

"Was… was it my fault?"

Thranduil was terrified.

"Of course not! How could you even think that?"

Moving Legolas in his arms to face him, he continued.

"None of this was because of you. Never."

Slowly nodding, Legolas looked into his eyes again. Resigned, he spoke.

"Ada, we're not going to see Nana again are we."

He knew and understood what had happened.

Thranduil felt his heart collapse.

He couldn't answer. It hurt too much but with Legolas looking at him, tears evident, as if begging him to day he was wrong, there wasn't a way not to. To lie would break his heart further but saying what he knew was likely true would almost seem to make it completely true. Maybe if he pretended it wasn't true it wouldn't be.

But he couldn't do that to Maethorin.

Swallowing hard he felt his eyes sting and pulled Legolas closer to him.

"I don't think so Legolas. I don't think we are."

* * *

**There it is. I was quite happy with this. There are lots of different versions of this story so I hope I did it justice. I've had the idea for a while but the song 'don't you worry child' (or whatever it's called) really helped me, if you can see where.**

**As I like both the books and films I try to find a balance between them. The first two could be either but the third is mostly after the films. This one would also be following the films more. **

**I wasn't quite sure how to portray Thranduil. In the book he is mostly a kind but occasionally grumpy and very suspicious elf but in the film he is a demanding, stern king. I hope I managed of show him well as I'm still figuring out what he is like.**

**In case people aren't fluent in Sindarin, Ada means daddy and Nana means mammy.**

**It's within a week! Thankfully I did finish it within the said time for once! Next chapter I'm thinking of saying what comes after this, almost like a part two but not quite. I am still open to any suggestions you may have but here are some basic wishes:**

**Keep it to the fellowship, any of the nine can be included.**

**Nothing during or after the books were written for these tales please.**

**No romance that Tolkien didn't make, partial as I'm terrible with romance but also because it doesn't feel right.**

**I am all for Aragorn and Legolas knowing each other before the fellowship and Gandalf knowing everyone.**

**Mostly, don't be afraid to give me something challenging! I am here to improve and with time I hope I can do what you asked for.**

**Be looking for your review and ideas! :)**


	5. Beautiful Day

It was a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly as it had all week. The sky was clear and the trees and birds sung.

And Thranduil hated it.

Ever since the meeting he had locked himself in his rooms and had refused to come out for anyone. It was a small mercy that the talks had finished so swiftly. They were set out how Thranduil wanted them of course. The men of the villages didn't even try to argue or renegotiate the terms after witnessing the capture of the ElvenQueen. There wouldn't be any sending groups after her till they knew where she was and with the headstart that knowledge would be difficult to retrieve.

Once back at Mirkwood, after a short trip with no breaks, news of her capture traveled amongst the wood elves quickly. There was a mixed result of grief and a hardened resolve. Thranduil didn't feel any of this. He just felt empty.

Everything he saw reminded him of her. The window they would always look out of on stormy nights, the floor where he threw up on before their wedding. And most of all, her son.

He had barely been able to look at him. Until they got back to the halls of Mirkwood, Legolas hadn't left his side. He never wanted to be far away. Thranduil himself didn't want to be a room apart but when he couldn't even look at him how could he? Since they had returned they hadn't seen each other. He hadn't made the effort. He just wanted to sit at his desk, looking at the papers he wasn't going to do.

Being hidden away as he was, he remained unaware of the guest that had just arrived.

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Gandalf lead Elrond through the halls to the king's rooms. Both knew the way but Gandalf was worried about the state of the King of Greenwood, or indeed Greenwood herself.

There was no one left to rule her in the Queen's absence and the King's despair. Their heir was too young to take their place. Not that he would be in the condition to either.

Gandalf felt that if he went first maybe he could somehow reason with him. After all, they had known each other for years and had been through a lot together.

When at last they reached the office door, Gandalf pushed it open and entered without knocking. Approaching the King, he shared a look with Elrond. Thranduil was slumped in his chair and hadn't even moved at the sound of the door opening. Something very unlike the proud elf. As they reached his shoulder, he spoke in a tired voice.

"What do you want?"

"We've come to assist in any way we can to help with the whereabouts of the Queen."

Elrond addressed the King calmly. Not a trace of worry could be found in his voice. It was only present in his eyes that Thranduil hadn't turned to meet. Both Elrond and Gandalf were surprised by the hollow laugh that followed.

"I already know where she is."

Elrond raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"But-"

Gandalf cut him off.

"Where is she?"

Slowly, Thranduil raised his head and stared into the distance.

"Angmar."

At this, his previously full and monotone voice cracked slightly. The only sign betraying shows of emotion. Neither Noldor elf nor Istari could think of a comforting word so instead opted for the voice of doubt.

"Are you sure?"

*I am positive. I have my way of knowing."

Elrond put a hand on the King's shoulder.

"This doesn't mean she is dead."

With a snort, Thranduil shrugged the hand off of his shoulder.

"It would be better if she was. Not even Mirkwood's whole army could reach her and inside things will only go slowly."

The visitors were surprised. Not at the facts he had given them but at the title he gave his kingdom. Until now he had only ever called he Greenwood the Great. Until he had let the hope die she had never been called Mirkwood.

"She is strong. She can survive."

"Who could survive that?"

Then, like the wind, his mood changed.

"What are you even doing here?"

The ElvenKing turned and rose to meet the eyes of his help.

"Get out!"

The tone in his voice showed that there was no room to argue. Both wizard and elf headed to the door. Before he left, Gandalf looked the King in his eyes.

"What about Legolas?"

"Get out!"

Gandalf ducked out of the room.

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Maethorin was forever outdoors. When she became Queen, a royal garden was made especially for her. It wasn't a gardener's garden. In the centre stood a large old tree and all the rest was filled with wild flowers that had been allowed to grow in any way they wished. This was the garden that Celebrían entered with Eladan, Elrohir and Arwen.

Unseen from the branches of the old tree, Legolas watched them with full interest. Since his naneth had gone he had often come here. She had always loved the place and had regularly taken him with her. He didn't really understand what was going on. I know I said earlier how he did but that was about what had happened. Legolas didn't understand why it had happened. He also didn't understand the blame that he had unknowingly placed upon himself.

Below him, he watched the family play, oblivious to his presence in the garden.

They continued for quite a while until one of the twins upset Arwen who pushed it off on the other twin that lead into an argument before Celebraían put her foot down and lead them out of the garden.

Still, Legolas remained where he was. That evening there was to be an event, a final goodbye to the Queen of the Woodland realm. It was due to be a party of sorts, celebrating her life.

Legolas didn't want a party.

He just wanted his Nana.

He hadn't seen Ada in days and his smile in even longer.

He had avoided everyone else. Even his friends. Seeing the Noldor elves was the closest he had come to seeing anyone all day.

It made him sad to see them together, playing in his mother's garden as they used to. And it hurt to think they wouldn't do it again.

After taking a deep breath, he descended the tree.

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Thranduil didn't know if he could show later. He couldn't make himself move from his chair.

Mild annoyance plagued him from the earlier conversation with Gandalf and Elrond. He wanted to believe she was alive, of course he did. But believing would just hurt more later. He couldn't keep up the charade of hope he had been trying to maintain. It was useless. Maybe he should sail.

Maybe that was what he needed to do.

Leave everything to someone else.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door was pushed open behind him.

"I thought I said I wanted to be left alone!"

He didn't get a response and there wasn't a hurried slam of the door.

Thranduil turned to the door sharply to see Legolas hovering in the doorway.

What about Legolas.

Gandalf's question.

To sail would either mean bringing him along or leaving him alone. But how could he do either to his son who was so fond of the forests and would be torn either way.

"Ada?"

Thranduil sighed.

"It's alright. Come here."

Legolas rushed over and Thranduil picked him up.

It hurt so much to see him.

So much.

But he knew that letting him go would hurt him a thousand times worse.

That boat would have to wait.

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Gandalf was waiting anxiously for the king to appear. The celebrations were due to start and neither him nor Legolas had made an appearance. Nearby, Elrond mirrored his concern whilst he was giving reasons why Eladan shouldn't mess around.

Gradually, a hush fell over the crowd of elves.

Gandalf turned to see Thranduil standing proudly and Legolas behind him.

He didn't say anything but made a motion with his hands, a sign that the celebrations could commence. A cheer went up through the crowd and movement started up. You would never believe they were in mourning. They were celebrating to their fullest. All their sadness and anger was put aside to remember how full of life was. She had always been the heart of Greenwood as would still be in some respects.

With one last look at the ElvenKing, Gandalf made his decision.

He would leave in the morning. He was no longer needed.

It was not yet evening and the light was still strong. It shone through the trees like white jems. The effect was overall familiar and calming. Thranduil felt sad.

He had never thought he would feel that light again Greenwood's soul wasn't visible but was ever present. A cruel taunt and thankful gift. He no longer felt empty.

The Woodland realm was strong. She would live on.

As the sun dropped lower in the sky, hints of colour appeared. Thranduil smiled.

It was a beautiful day.

* * *

**First of all I am sorry and so on. You know how things goes. I was working on that for months Nd couldn't get anywhere. I actually did a small celebration once I finished.**

**This is the second part to my previous chapter to do with the death of Legolas' mother. This one is slightly shorter but I think it gets across what I wanted.**

**The wish for comments and ideas is still wanted. The more detailed the idea the better! My next chapter will be what RosieCotton3791 requested with Boromir and Farimir. I am thinking of a story or Gandalf and the Old Took as also asked but that may take longer. This year I am busy so they may be coming out about ever month or so. It really depends. I am still working on a new story. I'm thinking about doing the fellowship's journey from Rivendell. Don't give up on me just yet! **


	6. Sunrise

"Duck!"

Boromir swung his sword, narrowly avoiding taking off his brother's head. An orc fell to the ground and Boromir turned to face the next.  
He didn't know what has gone wrong. All they had planned to do today was scout out an area for training the new Gondorian soldiers. How had it turned into a fight for their lives against an army of orcs?  
Sure, it was a small one. And sure, the lands so close to Mordor were prone to attacks, but this path had been clear for years. No orc had ever come this way before. Yet here they were.

"Why are we here again?"

Boromir turned to his brother and laughed.

"Because brother, you told father that you would help out before I was to go to the elven realm. Missing all of the drinks as well!"

Boromir watched as Faramir shot down three orcs in rapid succession.

"Nice. But really? All this just to impress him?"

In between shots, Faramir glared at him before resuming the fight.

"No, no, I get it. It's difficult being the younger brother after me."

Faramir smiled and Boromir laughed at his own joke whilst beheading a smaller orc.

"I don't think you realise that you went first so they could iron out all of the mistakes. Besides, I'm not doing it to impress him. I mean, a little recognition every now and then would be nice but I shan't hold my breath."

Feigning mock horror, Boromir turned to his brother.

"Why, that's hurtful- Watch out!"

An archer had it's bow ready and released it towards the youngest son of Denethor. He turned, eyes wide.

That movement was probably the only thing that stopped the arrow from killing him instantly. Faramir fell to the ground heavily. The arrow was embedded in his torso by his right shoulder. Boromir madly dispatched the last of the orcs, including the archer, and rushed to his brother's crumpled form.

"Faramir?"

He was mostly unresponsive, eyes parted only slightly and clouded with pain. His breathing was shallow and rapid so Boromir assumed he was going into shock. Carefully, he removed the shaft, causing a weak cry below him. Thankfully it wasn't too deep. Putting pressure on the wound he spoke encouragingly.

"Faramir. You're alright. I'll sort this out. We'll, umm… I'll get you back home. No that's too far, I'll get you to the nearest healer and get them to look at you. I'll have to carry you back. I'm sorry about that. You'll just have to bear it. Hey, speak to me."

Faramir smiled slightly.

"I am alone… with you. ...The furthest thing… from a healer."

Smiling back, Boromir started ripping off parts of his tunic for bandages and dressed the wound as well as he could. Then, without warning, he hoisted his brother on to his shoulder. He let out a strangled cry and trembled at the sudden pain.

Op

"Sorry! Sorry! I should have warned you."

The journey to their position had taken the best part of an hour over rough terrain. The ideal choice for training soldiers to get used to anything. Less ideal, however, for carrying a wounded man single handedly with speed. Boromir predicted it would take an hour and a half at best to receive help. This was excluding the stops that may be forced upon them. It was an injury that could be survived.

It could be.

But that didn't stop the panic that was shadowing him.

The further away they were: the more chances there were that things would go wrong. Blood loss, rough terrain, another orc attack…

It was tough going. Yen minutes in they had to stop due to nausea. Boromir supported Faramir as he threw up before proceeding to faint. His energy was drained and when Boromir finally raised him, he was half asleep.

The only choices they had though were to give up or keep going, so Boromir picked him up and continued.

The predicted hour and a half very quickly became two hours. They had to maintain a steady, slow pace so as not to cause discomfort. At many points Faramir had turned paler than snow and there was a fight to keep him conscious. Boromir feared that if he closed his eyes he may never open them again.

It was only when they reached the stronghold entrance when Faramir fell into a sleep and wouldn't be back awoken. Blood was soaking them both and his heart felt feathery under Boromir's examination

One of the soldiers that wasn't drunk came over upon seeing them.

"What happened?"

Barely giving a glance to the man, Boromir responded, seeking out the best way through the crowds.

"Orc attack. Help me get him to the healers."

Later Boromir wouldn't be able to recall how him to safety or handing him to the healers. It was like his mind had refused to remember it so chose to block it out. His reckoning returned as he stood outside the healers wards and one of his father's envoys walked up to him.

"Lord Boromir-"

Distastefully, he looked at the man.

"I am no lord."

Faltering, the envoy staggered out his give, eager to be on his way.

"Of course. Lord Denethor wishes to see you."

"Now?"

Boromir was in a foul mood, not ready to entertain his father.

"Umm… yes. Immediately."

Boromir strode off, cursing under his breath. He quickly left the envoy who was all to glad to be out of his company. It didn't take long to find him. Boromir knew exactly where he would be.

Before long, he was standing before his father, watching him dine alone.

Denethor gestured to a chair beside him.

"Sit."

Keeping his unreasoned rage in check, Boromir sat in the allocated chair.

"Is there anything you need father?"

Denethor took a long drink of wine before answering.

"As I said earlier, you are to go to Rivendell."

Confused, Boromir played with his sword's hilt at his waist.

"I am aware of this. Was there something else-"

"This evening."

Boromir blinked rapidly, unsure he had heard correctly.

"I'm sorry?..."

Denethor looked at him sternly. He set down his goblet and pointed a finger at the table.

"You will be leaving for Rivendell today!"

"But… Faramir?!"

"Faramir shouldn't have got himself shot!"

"He saved my life!"

The lie came easily. For many years, they had been lying to save each other. Especially against their father.

Denethor raised an eyebrow at him and Boromir elaborated on his lie.

"We were fighting and I was distracted. I didn't see the other archer before it was too late. Faramir pushed me out of the way. It was my fault."

Sighing and waving a hand dispassionately he dismissed him.

"You leave this evening."

Boromir, mind working quickly, countered him.

"How about early tomorrow morning. We won't get far with the daylight left today so we may as well have a good night's sleep. Then I also have time to organise more men to come with me, giving us more safety on the roads and ensuring that something like today won't happen."

Denethor sent him a withering look.

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing. You can't get past me."

Denethor took another gulp of wine. Boromir felt his heart sink in his chest.

"However, you presented your argument well. Therefore you have a night to prepare. You must be off by sunrise!"

Fighting off a triumphant smile, Boromir bowed his head.

"Thank you."

"Now be off with you!"

_**TALES OF HOME**_

Boromir kept to most of his word.

He did get everything prepared for a swifter and safer journey. On the other hand, he could not claim to be rested. Through the night, Boromir sat by his brother's side. He was perfectly still, bandages covering his shoulder. The clean white was a stark contrast to the dirty red and made Boromir feel ill. He was unnerved by his lack of response even though he knew he was just in a much needed healing sleep.

He must have dozed off himself at some point because he found himself starting awake to a small movement and a groan.

Sitting up so so fast he felt dizzy, Boromir watched as Faramir parted his eyelids. Gazing around wearily and taking a slow breath, Faramir tried to remember where he was and how he had gotten there. Boromir leaned in closer but remained silent, waiting for him to respond as and when he was ready.

After a time, he watched as his brother slowly smiled and locked eyes with him.

"So I survived!"

Boromir could only chuckle, finding himself overwhelmed.

"I didn't know you knew so much about keeping people alive!"

"Well, I can't admit to doing much myself. I probably only made it worse!"

Boromir added the last bit with a laugh of relief. Faramir tried to shrug before wincing. Deciding not to cause himself more discomfort, he chose to just smile cheekily instead.

"Never mind. You can just make it up to me later!"

Boromir felt the smile readjust itself. A slow emptiness eat at him slowly.

"I can't. I'm heading off to the elven realm as the sun rises." Boromir glanced at the steadily paling sky. "Now really. I was supposed to leave yesterday but got myself a few more hours."

"Laziness?"

Boromir mimed strangling his brother.

"I should have just left!"

Faramir reached out with his left hand and looked at him warmly.

"I'm glad you didn't."

The two of them watched as the dark frosted over into a silvery mist. There was almost silence in the busy wards around them. Everything had stilled, allowing them a final moment of peace together.

The moment was broken by a yawn from Faramir. Boromir felt bad for keeping him up as he should be resting to help his injury heal. Getting to his feet and glancing once more out of the window, he returned his gaze to his brother's.

"Well, I must be off or father will likely kill me."

Sleepily smiling, Faramir responded.

"No he won't. Just give you basic duties for a month."

Boromir let the brief horror light his face before relaxing into their goodbye.

"Help yourself."

Faramir laughed.

"I always do."

Boromir could only shake his head. Moving towards the door, he heard his brother call out so turned mid stride.

"And you get back. You can make this up to me. I'll be waiting."

Then Boromir watched as his brother peacefully closed his eyes to sleep.

Something felt off but he pushed it aside and walked to the door.

On the way to his mare he thought of him.

With this journey he would accomplish peace for his people and make a world were his brother could smile forever.

That was his aim.

He looked back only once as he rode away. The sun was rising, filling the sky with rubies. Golden banners of the future streaked through the sky.

Then he looked forward again.

* * *

**I'm sorry. Towards the end I realized what I had done and nearly cried.**

**This was a request and I hope I did it justice. Thank you RosieCotton3791 for the suggestion. This was Boromir with Faramir just before he left for the quest. I may have made a few tweaks on the story to satisfy this fanfiction but I think it turned out alright in the end. I only hope you all agree.**

**megSUPERFAN I will come to you idea soon but I have a Halloween special in mind.**

**I hope I get it done. It's to be back with Legolas but he is much older by now. I've had the idea for a while so I hope it goes as planned. It will have lost of violence. Please keep an eye out!**


	7. Blind

It had been ten days since the patrol had left. Since they had left the safety, or near safety, of the walls of that marked Thranduil's realm. There were ten of them, silently patrolling the empty forest. As of yet they had been lucky. No orcs had ambushed them and no spiders had surprised them.

They hadn't dared stop for a break before, being elves, they needed less rest than other races but realized the need. Going on for too long would lower their reactions. Something they couldn't afford to be without.

Legolas was the youngest of the group. He couldn't be called young, even by elf standards, but being one of the youngest elves of this time made the other centuries older. This wasn't a problem or anything of particular to note, it is just a fact. It may have caused them to tease him every so often, but only to lighten the mood. That and him being the prince of course. This was why, when they decided to stop for the night, he didn't get a watch. There were to be three of them all done in pairs. As Hathol and Alafcritha settled for their watch and everyone went to sleep, Legolas laid down. He didn't sleep as the others did, only rest. Youth was on his side meaning he didn't get as tired on long travels like this.

It would be more correct to say he didn't feel comfortable sleeping. This was an area of Mirkwood that wasn't commonly visited and there was something off about it, even if he couldn't identify what.

Trying to encourage sleep, he closed his eyes. As it is, elves don't sleep with their eyes closed unless they are extremely tired or injured. Legolas, being neither, was soon called on by Hathol.

"Legolas! Get some sleep!"

Alafcritha hushed him quickly.

"You fool! Do you want all means of evil to descend on us?"

It wasn't long before they were engrossed in a small argument. The other elves were either ignoring them or were asleep. Or what could be counted as sleep anyway. Opening an eye to check, Legolas confirmed it was the latter. Their eyes were all glazed over, away in elven dreams.

It wasn't much longer before Legolas was nearly asleep himself. Hathol and Alafcritha were still arguing to the side, making a drone of familiar noise. It wasn't the first time those two had argued on this patrol, or indeed since they had met each other about a thousand years ago.

Then there was a creek.

Not something unusual in the forest. Usually it was caused by someone approaching standing on some dead wood. But this was different.

The argument stopped instantly.

Warily, the two made it to their feet, weapons drawn. They didn't wake the camp. It may have been nothing. But something did feel off.

And then Hathol got it.

"Blood! I smell blood!"

Legolas realized he could smell it as to from his position on the ground.

How hadn't he noticed it before?

Warriors such as himself were accustomed to the smell of blood yet he hadn't noticed it.

Legolas snapped his eyes open to see Alafcritha edging away from their camp.

"We should check what it is. Just in case."

With a short nod, Hathol followed him out of the camp.

Legolas himself was fully up now and preparing his gear. Deciding not to follow, he settled on keeping an eye on the camp. It wasn't even a minute later when he heard screams.

Legolas fought with himself, barely containing the desire to head straight to them and help. Instead, he woke Faer and Gorth who were beside him.

They were awake in an instant. To be honest, most of them were awoken by the screams.

Once everyone was up and had everything gathered, this only taking about twenty seconds, they hurried stealthily towards the sound.

Faer gasped as she reached the other elves ahead of everyone else. Both elves lay on the floor, weapons sheathed. The eldest elf, Lassmil, checked them over as the others crowded near. Legolas stayed back though, noting the change in the air.

"They're dead."

Legolas was brought out of his thoughts to the conclusion. Malenglad; another elf, who is renowned for being impossible to sneak up on, spoke up in horror and amazement.

"There isn't even a scratch upon them!"

And there wasn't.

There was no mark upon them at all and no trace of anything passing in the area. It was as if they had just dropped dead. And Legolas could no longer smell it. The metallic wash in the air.

It was gone.

As quickly as it had come it had… But no. That wasn't true. If it had appeared instantly it would have been noticed as soon as it came.

Slowly swiveling where he stood, Legolas scanned the twisted trunks and lightless ground for any sign of what had happened. Like the others, he found nothing. With an unforgiving acceptance, he turned back to the fallen elves.

Lassmil had picked one of them up and motioned for someone to do the same.

"We should take them back, report what happened."

There were nods of agreement and more nervous glances into the endless branches.

They moved on as quickly as they could with two dead weights. Legolas hung back with Malenglad and Gorth. They were in charge of keeping an eye out for anything that may be pursuing them. Legolas was nervous. Everything had been going smoothly for a while now. Nothing had stopped them. Even despite the smell that was creeping back. Scanning the area and all of the elves in it he nearly pointed it out.

But then he saw Malenglad.

She lay crumpled on the floor a few paces behind them.

Startled elves spun around when Legolas called a stop. Each and every one was surprised to see what lay before them. No one had heard her hit the ground and, like Hathol and Alafcritha, there appeared to be no mark on her at first glance.

Only that wasn't true.

Under closer examination, it became clear that she had been suffocated. But again, no one had heard anything that would have proven this to happen, but somehow it had.

Once again commanding control, Lassmil asked the others if they had noticed anything unusual. Carefully, Legolas spoke up.

"The air."

When he didn't expand, Lassmil and the others looked exasperated.

"What about the-" Then a look of understanding flooded her face, "It smells like blood! And this happened last time?"

Legolas nodded.

"That's one of the reasons Hathol and Alafcritha went off to investigate. But it went as soon as we found them."

Faer eyes Malenglad suspiciously.

"Then why is is still here?"

Their answer came moments later when Mâfonna, the son of one the elves high up in Thranduil's council, fell against them, dropping the elf he had been charged with carrying. It was clear upon first glance what had happened to him. His throat was cleanly cut and smiling.

It would be hard to deny that all the elves were holding down a level of panic. Something was slowly killing them off one by one. Not even that slowly in all honesty! It was getting very close to them all and not one of them could tell when it was there.

Gorth broke the silence that they had created.

"I think the smell has gone now."

No one looked at him. All eyes on the four fallen.

An elf called Aewglîr spoke up. She had very dark hair, it could look blue in some lights, and was always the voice of reason.

"We need to leave now and as quickly as we can."

Gorth just looked startled.

"But what about…"

He trailed off but no one needed to ask what he meant. It was all they could think about.

"We'll have to leave them."

At this everyone tore their eyes away from their friends and began to protest. Lassmil only sighed.

"She's right," fixing everyone with level stares, she continued. "There are only six of us. If someone carries one of them each that would leave only two of us unburdened. We can all see how dangerous this is. Two won't be enough. We can't even tell when it is near."

No one spoke. Instead they just gathered themselves and made to leave. The truth can be hard to take in under circumstance, and they were having to leave their kin behind. There was no time for a burial either. All they had time to do was rearrange the bodies and pray to the Valar that they would be free in the halls of Mandos.

On their way back to safety they were all on constant high alert. Legolas noticed them all find it increasingly difficult. There had been very short and Legolas himself hadn't slept at all. As I have said previously, elves need little sleep, but they do need it.

They were almost halfway back when, after Legolas and Aewglîr collided in their half asleep state, Lassmil called a stop. The watches were arranged in the same way as before: three watches done in pairs. Only this time, all of the elves fell asleep, excepting those who were on guard.

Legolas didn't dream of anything at all. It was just black waves all crashing against a black shore. From the nothingness, he heard a familiar voice murmur.

"What's that?"

Bolting awake, Legolas awoke to see the elf that had spoken, an elleth called Eilroch, gasping for breath with Faer calling out to her.

They were both on watch but now one of them had a gaping hole in her stomach and her blood wasn't the only thing you could smell on the air. The others were up in no time as well, all taking to their feet and drawing their weapons.

"What happened?"

Legolas had finally found his voice and wasn't so overwhelmed that it was present when he spoke. Faer just shook her head and sighed.

"We were just watching. The smell faded in so slowly that I didn't notice it. Eilroch did. I think she spotted something and then… It was almost as if some invisible force impaled her. I didn't see it. And now…"

She stopped. All Legolas could think about was how it was still here. Why though?

"It's following us."

No one looked at Legolas. They had all realized what he had said themselves but no one had spoken it aloud. No one looked at anyone. Timidly, Aewglîr spoke up.

"We need to go."

This time there wasn't any response at all. They just started walking.

Regardless of their tiring spirits, they ran on for hours. Everyone was preoccupied in their thoughts. Not a word was spoken between them. What would they talk about anyway? How they were all being killed? How they may possibly be leading whatever it was back to all the other elves in Mirkwood? In the end, silence was the best option.

It their occupied minds no one was truly alert until they ran into a nest of spiders.

Each one of them was tense and ready for a fight so gained a lot of ground very quickly. Despite this, they were tired and largely outnumbered. It wasn't long before they were all separated from each other. Legolas was trying to fight his way back to them. Things were going successfully until the stench of copper hit him in the face. The distraction was all the spiders needed and Legolas was forced on to his back. He didn't have time to react.

But he didn't need to.

Suddenly, the spiders screamed. They ran terrified and only the patrol remained.

Theirs weren't the only screams thought.

Lassmil lay in one spot, her head in another.

But the scream didn't come from her

It came from Aewglîr.

She was crumpled on the ground, almost sawn in half. Neither of these deaths were caused by spiders.

The blood was still there.

Legolas, Faer and Gorth ran. All of them were utterly spent but still they ran. They ran until they were only a mile from Mirkwood's defenses. They ran until they couldn't anymore.

Faer fell to her knees from exhaustion. Legolas longed to do the same but blood was still painting the air and adrenaline was still coursing through him. Gesturing to Gorth, he went to get her back on her feet.

Then her eyes went wide at something behind them.

"What…"

Legolas and Gorth went to turn, to see what she was looking at, but she stopped them.

"No! Don't look-"

She never finished her sentence.

A large tree branch smashed into the back of her head, shattering her skull on impact. In a smooth motion, Legolas looked in the direction he was warned against but saw nothing. Turning back to face Gorth he saw him thinking.

"What is it?"

Slowly, Gorth opened his mouth in response.

"They all see something. Before they die I'm pretty sure they all saw the same thing. But maybe… if we can't see it it can't kill us…"

Legolas watched on in amazement as he tore two long strips off of his tunic and handed one to him. Then, without a word, he blindfolded himself. Uncertainly, Legolas brought the cloth to his eyes and also blindfolded himself with fear.

Legolas felt his way to the nearest tree. All wood elves knee the forest, now was just when they would find out how much. Legolas could hear Gorth by him, sounding as sure footed as ever.

The blood hadn't faded yet. Legolas could only assume that, whatever it was, it was still nearby. His ears were tuned into every tiny noise. That thing had scared off a dozen spiders and Legolas wasn't ashamed to admit how much it terrified him. The deaths had only been getting worse and the unexplainable nature of them was clawing at him. Each time Gorth snapped a branch behind him Legolas tensed before realising the source.

The trees were silent, the wind was silent, everything was so loud.

Then once again, he was punched in the face by the air.

"Legolas!"

He heard Gorth barely whisper in anticipation. Still there was no sound.

He could feel it though, it hovered arothem. The two elves marched on, trying to ignore the cold that rushed through them.

Then there was the root.

Unable to see, Legolas fell to his knees. He had felt Gorth try and catch him but his nose collided straight with the ground. He didn't need to be a healer to know it was broken. However, he was more occupied by the thing beside him so spring to his feet. At the back of his head he felt the knot untie.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to scramble away. It felt closer.

Then he felt a hand drag him away.

"Come on! Run!"

Allowing Gorth to pull him along, Legolas tried to remember how to breath. Right now, all Legolas wanted to do was sleep. He was fed up of running. But still he was pulled along.

Gorth was tiering as well though. Legolas could feel them getting slower.

When the guards spotted them, Legolas could hear them pull the gates open and usher them both inside. Both of them no doubt looking a mess.

There were lots of murmuring voices and queries past amongst them in an alarming tone. When Legolas opened his eyes he nearly choked.

The smell of blood was gone and instead it trickled out if Gorth. From his nose, his mouth and even his eyes. There was no doubt that he was as good as dead.

Confused Legolas pulled himself over to him.

"What happened? I thought you were blindfolded?"

Gorth laughed weakly.

"I took it off after you put yours on. Someone had to see where we were going or we would have all died. I knew… I knew you wouldn't do it unless it looked like I had as well."

Legolas used the last of his strength to tell in frustration as he watched him die as well. Several elves rushed him as he nearly fainted. Barely aware, he felt himself be pulled to his feet and be carried to the healers wards. When some elf asked what had happened Legolas could only respond numbly:

"They're all dead"

It didn't take long for them to realise they wouldn't be receiving anything other then that for a while.

By the time they reached the healers, Legolas was nearly out of it. The last thing Legolas was aware of was someone speaking.

" - reeks of blood."

Legolas' eyes rolled into the back of his head.

* * *

**First of all I want to say that I respect Legolas. It is supposed to be that everyone is naturally terrified of this thing or something like that. He is also probably very young, maybe it's one of his first patrols? I don't know. It got a bit lost.**

**Still, I hope you liked it. Barely made it in time as usual! It may not be that scary but I don't know how to make scary so I gave it my best shot.**

**All of the elves have names with Sindarin meanings but I won't include them unless requested as they have no corilation to the characters. **

**I am writing the next chapter. Unfortunately, I am very busy with exams so my nonexistent timetable will probably get even worse. Again, any kind comments would be appreciated and other idea even more so. I will be around to them all eventually! I promise!**

**Till then! :)**


	8. Diamond Studs

The skies were clear as always in Shire summers. Piercing blue and devoid of clouds, empty except for that white ball of heat. The rolling, never ending fields spread out in a perfect fashion. Just at the edge of sight: hobbit holes and lanes between them.  
Gandalf sighed and breathed in the clear, smokeless air. The weight in his pocket dig at him, ate at him. Ignoring it, he strode forwards with purpose. He had a party to go to. It was mid summer's eve and he was the main entertainment. The fireworks with him would create a show the inhabitants of Hobbiton wouldn't forget any time soon.

_Fire..._

_Flames danced viciously. The smoke was higher than he had thought was possible. The heat was even worse. Hundreds of voices could be heard from hidden figures. _

_Not voices. _

_Screams._

_And where was that old fool? Gandalf couldn't see him anywhere. He was by his side a moment ago. But where had he…_

Gandalf held back a yawn. His journey had been a long one. Three weeks he had travelled, barely stopping for any breaks. That being said, he wasn't someone who required much rest. But now his entire body called out to stop. Ignoring the persistent voices, he increased his speed.

By the time Gandalf reached the hobbit in charge of the party that had possessed the Shire the now fee clouds were tinted with pink. His aches hadn't lessened but he could easily push them aside by now. Gandalf smiled down at the familiar hobbit he was faced with.

Gerontius Took greeted him in usual hobbit fashion: warm and comforting before demanding to know where he had been and would he stay for dinner. In this case there was also the scolding for nearly not showing up and depriving the hobbits of their entertainment. All Gandalf could do was hastily apologize and confirm that he would indeed be staying for dinner. The old Took relaxed at his response yet Gandalf noticed him glancing around as if expecting someone else. Gandalf smiled unconvincingly and inquired about his family as to distract from the missing member. It worked like a charm for, as anyone familiar with hobbits knows, mentioning their family was a dangerous topic that could go on for hours and usually involved the entirety of Hobbiton.

_The fire had started in the stables and had quickly spread to the surrounding buildings. It was no accident. That was more than clear by the mass of torch and sword bearing men that swept through the town like a small tornado. The mayor's head was held up on a stick and many others were on the ground nearby._

_Gandalf had come to the town only an hour earlier. He was there to invite a dear friend of his and Gerontius to the midsummer's eve party in a few weeks time. They had met on one of the old Took's adventures and had become quite close. He wasn't someone who could be described with much importance about him. That was what Gandalf liked about him. The most normal people after all, were the most important and special. They got to live their lives with nothing binding them anywhere._

_His name was Hadwin. He only owned one item of value that he found whilst sowing the fields, a pair of magic diamond studs that, once fastened, wouldn't come undone until ordered to do so. They weren't something that many people knew about. In fact, only Gerontius and Gandalf himself knew of them. They weren't a cause to brag for Hadwin, only a reminder that small bits of good can be found anywhere. Gandalf couldn't help but find it entirely over the top when Hadwin had told him his view but it was another reason he admired him as a person._

_When the fire had started, Gandalf had left Hadwin to prepare to leave for Hobbiton. He couldn't find him anywhere through the smoke and town's folks dashing everywhere. Gandalf didn't know where the attack had come from or how it had been provoked but, since he could stop it, he focused on finding his friend, ignoring his concern._

The fireworks didn't take long to set up. The only thing left to do was wait for dark to come.

Finally, Gandalf had allowed himself a rest. He sat, eyes closed, separate from the partiers. It was a well deserved rest. At least that was what Gandalf told himself. It was also a good way of keeping any young hobbit from pestering him. Pretending to be asleep meant that he could be separate from Middle Earth for a while.

He heard Gerontius come and sit by him. Keeping silent, Gandalf waited to be called from his state of rest. He waited for several minutes but wasn't called upon.

Giving up, Gandalf opened his eyes. Gerontius was looking out at the other hobbits with a patient air about him. Noticing the now open eyes he spoke to Gandalf without turning to look at him.

"It's probably time to light the fireworks."

Nearly laughed at the not so subtle hint, Gandalf started the show.

The pair sat in companionable silence, just watching. They heard gasps and exclamations of wonder and happiness from the nearby hobbits mixing with the blasts of colour in the air. It created a very surreal experience in Gandalf's mind that largely contrasted his mood.

The fireworks ended almost too soon. Disappointed mutters could be heard from some of the more bitter of the hobbits.

Gerontius gave a content but almost wistful sigh. Gandalf turned to see the old Took looking at him.

"It's unfortunate that Hadwin isn't here. What happened?"

Gandalf deflated, looking down. He rested his hand over one of his pockets.

"He couldn't make it."

_It felt like an entire age had passed in the time it took to find Hadwin, and he would know. Upon finding him, Gandalf allowed his concern to leave him and instead be filled with the bitterness that time wasn't fair. Hadwin was rested against the wall of his neighbour's house. His clothing was torn where one of the men had run him through with a sword. He hadn't been granted enough time to arrive in time to prevent the blade that had changed his friend._

_Hadwin was still alive but Gandalf couldn't decide whether that was good or not. Pain was clearly shown on his face and Gandalf wished there was something he could do to help. His skills had never extended to saving dead men walking. Crouching beside him, Gandalf was there to receive the outstretched hand and its contents._

"_For Gerontius. A gift. Hope he enjoys… his party."_

_Gandalf nodded calmly. His expression like calm waters, undisturbed yet twisting below. He decided to stay a bit longer, wait until it was the right time._

_It was what he had always done before._

_So he waited._

_He waited._

_Then he left._

Reaching into his pocket, Gandalf faced the Took. When he produced the studs they reflected the lights of Hobbiton like stars.

"These… these are a gift from Hadwin. He wanted you to have them."

Gerontius looked at them and then at Gandalf with a distant yet warm look.

"Maybe you could tell me about it someday."

With a small smile, he got up and walked off to see his grandchildren that were half asleep nearby. Gandalf was left sitting watching the remains of smoke in the air.

It never got easier. Even that young Took could understand that.

Gandalf's method had to always just move on.

By maybe, just maybe, he would tell him…

Some day.

* * *

**Sorry it's so late and short. I figured that it was better something short then not at all though. I'm not sure I like how this turned out. It wasn't prepared to work with me! I tried to finish it as well as I could but this chapter didn't want to be written. Definitely much sadder then I anticipated as well. I've always thought that Gandalf must often see deaths but has to just move on and almost try to forget them in order to keep going. That's why when a friend does die I imagine he will take it really hard before just putting everything aside and just moving on. I hope I vaguely got that across.**

**School is over now and... No exams! Hopefully that means I should have more time to get thing written. I have the hope to try and do a Christmas themed chapter so hopefully that will be out soon. Unfortunately, my brain has fallen asleep so anything you want to see for a Christmas special, just let me know!**

**Thanks to megSUPERFAN for the idea. Another apology for the presentation! **


	9. Aragorn Son Of Arathorn

It was finally there, after all these years, right in front of him. A ring sat on his father's hand. No, not his father. He had known for years that he was only adopted into his family but it had never seemed as real as now. The ring of Baradir, an ornate silver ring gifted by the elves as a symbol of gratitude. A symbol of eternal friendship.

Estel didn't think it had kept any of that meaning. The emerald eyed serpents reflected the warm sunlight turning it cold. Their crown of flowers seeming like a means to mask, hiding something more evil. And Estel supposed it was really. The hidden line of kings from Gondor, all doomed because of Isildur. A line he was part of.

In his spiraling mind, Estel couldn't help but wonder which was the worst gift; the ring or the broken blade Narsil. What use would his newly presented broken sword do? Sure,it could be reforged. But what was the point? Estel was no king and he didn't want to be part of the line that unknowingly caused doom.

If he was being rational he may have seen how it was also the self same sword that had put an end to the fight against Sauron at the start of the third age, the same ring that was evidence of a proud line on kings.

Estel couldn't see it.

Eighteen years in Rivendell, enjoying his time with his brothers, learning how to track, hunt, fight, all building to his 20th birthday where he was told it was up to him to return to Gondor and reclaim his birthright. All these years being part of the elven community only to be told he didn't belong there, that he never had.

Well he didn't want that.

Elrond had been rapidly talking to him for some time, no doubt trying to explain his reasons. But Estel wasn't listening to him.

He could barely hear him through the cloud in his mind.

"Estel…"

The word cut through the fog causing anger to well up inside of him.

That wasn't his name though was it! It was just a lie! safety until the time he was deemed ready. Until he could stand on two feet and hold a sword. Until he could reclaim Gondor.

Without voicing a single thought he just turned and walked off leaving Elrond to stare after him, concerned and ashamed.

**TALES OF HOME**

Elrond closed his hand around the ring with a deep breath.

Things hadn't quite gone as he had hoped even if he had expected it.

Eighteen years Estel had called him father and now he may never hear it again. He had known that it wouldn't be easy to explain but just hadn't realised the emotional drain it would take on himself.

If only Gilraen was there as well. Perhaps Estel's mother could help control the situation. Unfortunately, despite her wishes to be there for her son's birthday, she was occupied with matters that couldn't be forced to wait.

As an elf, Elrond didn't see time pass the way humans do. Yet in the past eighteen years he had started to understand how it felt when time was running out. Someday soon Estel would have to leave in order to retake the long time vacant throne. Elrond wasn't even sure he would ever even want to.

Maybe the incentive of the promise that he could marry Arwen, his only daughter, upon reclaiming the throne would help his decision. They had already pledged themselves to each other anyway. Thinking back it almost seemed a bit cruel to say that their union could only happen after and at no point before but, to be honest, there was a moment when Elrond wasn't sure he would support it at all. His daughter and his ward. It almost felt like a betrayal. But they couldn't help who they loved and since elves only loved truly once, it would be cruel to force heartbreak upon his daughter. His only concern was how Estel's death would break her. He knew it would break him. Equally as much as it would to watch her fade from heartbreak or to choose a mortal life and die a mortal death.

Like Elros.

Either way it would have been difficult. In fact many people thought that, upon his discovery of their relationship, he would reject it completely. He almost did.

But now it mayn't matter.

He could have lost Estel for good.

He closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the silver serpents.

**TALES OF HOME**

Aragorn didn't notice time pass.

He didn't notice anything much.

He just felt empty.

And in all honesty, he couldn't quite figure out why.

Yes, he was annoyed at it being kept from him, but he could understand that. If he had known his childhood would have felt a lot more restrictive and burdened. It was probably for the best. And he could see that, he really could. But that left the question of why was he angry?

He kicked the ground in frustration. There wasn't anything to be angry about!

That meant surely he couldn't be angry. It had to be something else.

If he had to guess what it was he would've said it was a sense of loss.

Estel had been looking forward to living a simple life with Arwen. A quiet life where he could live with the elves and his family. In a way he still could. He could settle down with Arwen and if they had children then they could reclaim Gondor. But how was that fair?

Maybe that was it. The anger.

He knew that there was no doubt he would do it and he was scared.

He hated to admit it but he was scared that trying would just cost all that he had and loved.

And he hated he would do it anyway.

**TALES OF HOME**

Elrond sat in his study just playing with a piece of parchment, unable to focus enough to do work. His eyes were closed as he tried to empty his mind only to open them in failure moments later.

Upon doing so he was surprised to see Aragorn prepared to hesitantly knock at the open door as a means to announce his presence. His eyes. Elrond knew that look. They were troubled yet had certainty and determination. He had made his decision and Elrond knew there would be nothing done to change that decision.

Smiling at Aragorn, Elrond motioned for him to speak.

"Father, I must leave to seek out the Dúnedain rangers in the North."

It was spoken with utmost certainty and conviction that it completely baffled Elrond.

"What is the reason."

Taking a breath as if steeling himself, Aragorn proceeded to answer.

"If I am truly to become King of Gondor one day then I must be able to understand the way of men more. I have spent twenty years within the realms of elves. I must also learn to understand the lands more. By joining them I can better prepare myself for whatever the future may hold for me. I will leave at first light tomorrow. Tell my mother I send my prayers and that I plan on seeing her soon should I not see her before my departure."

"Estel-" Elrond began before correcting himself, "Aragorn, I…"

Elrond couldn't find the words. The words to express his apology, his respect, his admiration.

But looking him in the eyes he knew that Aragorn understood him already.

With a short nod to each other, Elrond watched as he exited the room. There would be a lot to talk about and go over yet before everything was fine. But that could happen later, when the world was a little more certain.

The next day Elrond bid him goodbye.

The sun was just slithering above the tree line, letting a thin golden light fill the valley reflecting on the copper of the leaves. There was no doubting that Aragorn was ready. He was all packed up and sat proudly upon his horse as she walked across the boundary of Rivendell.

And just like that Estel was gone.

Though maybe gone was the wrong word.

* * *

**I don't even know how four months has passed. For a working progress my schedule really is shocking!**

**Tales Of Home should hopefully have many more chapters yet despite the horrific lack recently. I've been struggling with both ideas and writing itself recently (recently being a very long length of time evidently) so in order to keep it going please let me know how you would like to see and if possible in what circumstance.**

**On another note, I am finally getting things together to start my fanfic on what happens whilst the fellowship are traveling. It will be set in the two weeks it takes for them to get to Holin as from then onwards Tolkein explains what happens and I am unsure about contradicting events. My previous fanfic: A Warm Welcome, will have no part in the story as I am already annoyed that I interfered with Tolkein's timeline and other stuff I don't know enough about to comment on. Please put ideas of what you may want to see included to help fill the fourteen days that I will no doubt struggle with. Anything from TOH will be canon for this as well so events can be brought up.**

**Finally, if anyone has the strength to have made it this far!, thank you for all the comments you have given. Please keep them up (especially if it's to give ideas, not that I'm desperate or anything :) ) as they are greatly appreciated. Please hold out for the next chapter. If you're lucky I may even complete it within a month!**

**Truthfully thought, if anyone actually read all of that you deserve to celebrate. I think that was the longest author's note I've ever written! I'll try to keep it shorter next time.**


	10. Dinner

Something was different when Estel wandered through Rivendell for dinner. There was more noise than usual. Admittedly, that can be prone to happening anyway if the right amount of wine is present or a particular song is sung. This wasn't quite like that though. The voices were more gruff than those used by the elves and speaking in the common tongue instead of the usual Sindarin and occasional Qenya.

He quietly approached the sound to have a look. He was going that way anyway and improving his stealth would be good. His brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, snuck up on him far too often so maybe this practice would help to get them back.

Upon peeking out of his hiding place Estel was surprised to see a group of males all about the same height as himself and, being only ten years old, far shorter than any other individual that he had seen lately.

They were all gorging themselves with varying degrees of neatness involved. The elves around them had expressions ranging from amusement to exasperation and even a few of disgust.

If Estel had to guess he would say, if his lessons had paid off, that it was most likely a group of dwarves judging from their short stature and beards. That would certainly explain the looks they were receiving. Even at ten years old he knew of the longstanding dislike between the two species despite the amounts that it was toned down in the more open and accepting Rivendell.

There was one amongst the group that didn't fit the description though. He ate just as heartily as the others but he had no beard and was dressed differently. Also, if he moved slightly to see the right angle, it looked like he wore no shoes and instead had large feet covered in hair. Estel couldn't remember ever having come across something like him before and was very intrigued.

He edged closer still trying to stay out of sight. It got increasingly difficult due to the abundance of elves, who would have normally have heard him by now but the dwarves were making so much noise that it drowned him out, and the bits of food that were being thrown in any and every direction which, by some miracle, hadn't hit him yet. As he moved around he noticed someone else. He stood with Elrond, both about similar heights and stature and they both had solemn expressions. He thought he recognised the man from somewhere but couldn't quite remember where. He was dressed almost entirely in grey and his rather spectacular hat sat crookedly on his head. In hand, he held some sort of walking staff? He wasn't certain but he did like the way it looked.

Part of him had made up his mind to go up and have a closer look and he just motioned to make his first step forwards when Elrond moved.

It was a very slight movement that normally wouldn't signify much however the angle he was at and the way he inclined his head indicated that he knew Estel was there and most likely about to cause trouble. It was an annoying thing that had stopped him many times from doing something either fun or mischievous and in most cases both. It was probably a skill he picked up from raising Elladan and Elrohir: instinctively knowing when someone was about to cause trouble. The worst part was how it rarely happened when the twins were causing trouble, it was only ever him and he only caused a third of the amount!

His thoughts were pulled from their tangent by a grumble from his stomach.

Food!

That's what he was looking for in the first place!

He quickly and quietly rushed out and towards the kitchens. He would probably just pick something up from there. He was certain that he could get the cooks to get him almost anything he wanted.

And maybe after he would try and sneak up on the twins again.

* * *

**So I guess that none of us were lucky after all.**

**Sorry about the delay. I try to multitask to the point where everything gets started but nothing gets finished. Lockdown had just magnified this.**

**I'm also going to appologise for the short length. I was originally going to post a chapter with Boromir teaching Faramir how to use a sword but I keep getting stuck so I decided to post this first. If anyone had any ideas for things to happen in this chapter my brain would certainly appreciate the help.**

**I tried to set this so it could be either in the Hobbit book or film. One day I may have to write out the merge between the two that I've created for my writing but I'll save that untill I've really ran out of ideas. The aging with Aragon as ten years old should be right but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.**

**Basically this was a round of apologies so I'll try not to do that again. No promises though. :) I've got another idea other then the Boromir chapter though so I'll try and get that one done as soon as I can untill inspiration strikes again. Writing is just failing me at the moment.**

**Please review! It makes me work faster!**


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